Power Rangers Turbo AU
by crimson tide ct
Summary: TAKE 2! ACTION! ... I thought it could be better, so it here it goes. Read and review PLEASE! Episode 1 now up.


Disclaimer: Disney owns the characters Tommy Oliver, Eugene Skullivich, Jason Scott, Kimberly Hart, etc. etc. I own the ones obviously not from the Power Rangers TV Series. Don't sue and that's it. Enjoy.  
  
"Shift into Turbo (part 1)"  
  
The busy intersection of Main and 50th wasn't bustling as usual. It was past one in the afternoon. Many were out on lunch but with no avenue to return. Motorists of Stone Canyon blew their horns impatienly waiting for emergency crews to clear a lane. Traffic was at a standstill and backed up for at least a good mile. The heat was sweltering this particular summer day.  
  
A city bus sat gridlocked with many sweaty, unhappy passengers. Some opted to get off and walk the remainder of their respective destinations, but most stayed put. One teenager sat looking ahead to the front of the bus contimplating what to do. The headphones hugging his sandy blonde hair blasted the popular alternative tune of the moment, making him oblivious to some of the muffled complaints of neighboring passengers.  
  
Digging into one of the many pockets of his green cargo shorts, the boy pulled out his cell phone to check on the time. He knew his uncle would be wondering where he was by now. Everyday at 1PM, one Adam James "A.J." Lorenzo must report to uncle, legal guardian, and Red Lightning Auto Shop owner Thomas "Tommy" Oliver. It's been seven months now since the passing of his mother. The only family left (or willing) to take him in was a relative only seen on occasion; a mid-twenties Californian and former martial arts campanion.  
  
"Thanks," A.J. mumbled to the driver as he stepped off the idle mass-transit vehicle.  
  
Life in the city was different the sixteen year old learned quickly. It wasn't anything close to the beach community in Florida he was raised in, but nothing he hasn't seen on TV. The ever-urbanizing city turned metropolis rivaled other major U.S. cities with its constant moving. The teen adapted quickly, thanks only to a shell created from his mother's untimely death. At least the summer provided his uncle a break from receiving calls from the high school.  
  
Several blocks away sandwiched between a row of brick buildings sat a red-themed auto repair and parts shop. The sign mounted above the entrance sported a lightning bolt with the words Red Lightning wrapped atop the neon-lettering. The garage was fairly busy that day. The small team of red-suited mechanics were either busy hacking away at or tweaking cars, or assisting clients. One mechanic in particular sported a blue jump suit, denoting his position as supervisor. Rolling out from under the Frontier he had been clinking away at, the nineteen-year-old wiped his hands on a small hand towel and looked across the way to see a younger teen coming into the garage.  
  
"You're late," he said rising up from the floor.  
  
"Whatever, Nick," A.J. answered. "Where is he?"  
  
"He'll be back soon. He had to take care of something."  
  
Nicholas Butler reached for his water bottle and downed an extra large gulp. Sweat trickled from the short crop of auburn hair and down his face. He never liked Tommy's nephew's attitude toward him. Rude, honoary, rebellious; everything Nick was when he was A.J.'s age (perhaps the only reason he could tolerate him).  
  
"Can you just tell him I checked in?" A.J. asked.  
  
"No. That would be your job, kid."  
  
"Look, I got better things to do than to sit around and wait for my uncle."  
  
"And I got better things to do than to talk to you," Nick said turning back to the truck. "Yo, Christian!"  
  
Another young man, looking about the same age of Nicholas, looked up from his project with a bothersome expression. "What is it?"  
  
"It's almost time," Nick said pointing to his watch.  
  
"Gotcha," Christian said adjusting the red duderag atop his head. "What about the kid?"  
  
"Kaleb can watch him."  
  
"No can do," the man of topic answered. "I have a doctor's appointment at 2:30."  
  
"Until you uncle gets back, go chill in his office so you'll be out the way. Don't want anything flying or falling on you," Nicholas warned, his sincerity more than embelleshed.  
  
A Red Trans Am pulled into the ally way alongside a row of beaten tin garbage cans. It's engine was at a quiet purr now as opposed to a moment ago when it was speeding fearlessly to its destination. The afternoon still was bright and humid the man inside the car assesed as he stepped out onto the pavement and away from the air conditioned vehicle. Baggy cargo pants and a red Polo would disguise him as a casual citizen, however, this was not the case.  
  
"Lightning Cruser, engage security," the man ordered.  
  
Instantly, without delay, a red-coated armor snapped onto the Trans Am. The tires were consumed with a protective shell and the doors, too, were consealed with a strip of metallic coating. A sequence of beeps chimed from the man's wrist watch.  
  
"Red Lightning," he plainly answered into the device.  
  
"It's me -- Eugene."  
  
"Ugh ... what'd I tell you?"  
  
"Sorry, Tommy," Eugene apologized before realizing the same mistake had been made. "Oh! I mean Red Lightning! Skull here."  
  
"Go ahead, Skull," Tommy said shaking his head.  
  
"I have a lock on the keys toward the center of the warehouse adjacent to the Lightning Cruser. Body heat is severe according to the scanners."  
  
"So I'll have a welcoming committee waiting for me. How nice," Tommy grinned.  
  
"You sure you can do this?" asked Skull. "I mean these keys don't necessarily mean he's going to use them for--"  
  
"Have you forgotten who you're talking to you?" Tommy asked growing slightly annoyed. "I'm leaving the line open. Holler at me if any unwelcomed crashers decide to spring up. ... Plus, you know for a fact Henry Chin can't be allowed to use the turbo technology for his fueling company.  
  
"Here we go..."  
  
"Ever since the merger Shark Fuels, Gas Tech, and Drive-X, there's been too much at stake; too much power."  
  
"Yada yada yada. I've heard your spiel a hundred times now," Skull said.  
  
"That makes one hundred and one," Tommy corrected.  
  
"Yeah, well, I still say you're paranoided. This could be a revolution of a lifetime! I mean, look, eliminating the dependency on oil and gas alone is a big feat. On top of that, reforming the turbo technology with the G8 project to transport matter can totally rid the world of all landfills. Why question it?"  
  
"We've had this discission five times now, Skull. Chin cannot be trusted. He's got his past. Quit being his fanboy for a second and go with me on this."  
  
"I am I am. Geesh," Skull groaned. "Whoa. Body heat nearby. Prepare yourself, Red."  
  
A solar-yellow Suzuki zipped through the bicycle lane on Main, leaving behind the sitting traffic. The helmetted rider grinned as she shifted her weight to the right as she prepared to turn. Small children fled to the sidewalks in excitement seeing the noisy colorful bike cut through the small in-road sandwiched between two of Stone Canyon's busiest avenues. Local establishments hugged both sides of the pothole ladden street and served as the center of the city's Hispanic community. Spanish retailers, a deli, a cleaners; just anything. The borough doubled as the stomping grounds for one Erin Rogers.  
  
"Hey, everyone!" the young woman said dismounting her bike.  
  
The helmet was removed and sat resting on the seat of the Suzuki. Shiny brunette hair spilled from its confinement to the back of the woman's head, rich curly tips touching just past her shoulder blades. The small children rushed over to greet their visitor.  
  
"Hi, Erin!" one shouted.  
  
"Hey, Mellie baby," Erin said embracing the child. "Que pasa, mi amor?"  
  
"Nada mucho," the girl giggled. "It's my turn to wear your jacket, remember?"  
  
The other kids whined in protest. A gleaming Erin ignored their chastising as she slipped off the black and yellow Suzuki jacket and draped it over the shoulders of the eight year old. Mellie's face instantly lit up, as did Erin's. The sound of two more bikes cut the exchange short however.  
  
Looking pass the girl, Erin saw two fast approaching Sukuzis similar to hers. The children lined the sidewalk again with quiet reception. Erin shepared Mellie to her peers as the two men stopped and dismounted.  
  
"Are you trying to get our heads blown off?" Erin seethed. "Look at the time."  
  
The one with the blue and white jacket removed his helmet and smiled coyly. "Of course."  
  
"Nick, I swear--"  
  
"Not in front of the children," Christian teased, removing his helmet next.  
  
Nick, stealing a quick kiss from Erin, reaching into his back jean pocket and produced a folded piece of paper.  
  
"We're so not late. Relax. We'll be early if anything. You know how Mikey is with these things. Late as always," Nick reassured his girlfriend.  
  
"Uh huh," Erin said evidently not convinced. "I don't need to hear his mouth again."  
  
"Been here long?" Christian addressed Erin.  
  
"Just got here myself. So we're ready?"  
  
"Ready," said Nick. "Let's do this."  
  
Footsteps of two men pattered through the narrow ally way. Shielded by the row of garbage cans from earlier, Tommy waited in an uncomfortable squatting position. He could ill-afford to let Shark Fuels Inc. present the turbo technology at tonight's gala downtown. If evidence matched suspecion, this could possibly spell doom for the world at large Tommy imagined. All his research raced through his mind as he waited for the men to pass. The snapshots of secret meetings, the taped conversations, the undercover investigations; it was adding up.  
  
This was his obession since that unfortunate evening two and a half years ago. As he squat there, Tommy's eyes grew as if the memories were projecting themselves before him. Everyday was a constant reminder of that void his uncle once filled after his days as Zeo Ranger 5 came to a sudden end. It was September of 1997 Tommy began to reminsce. It was several months after Jason lost the Gold Ranger powers. Everyone was going their seperate ways. Tanya had her gig at the radio station and was going for broadcasting. Adam had his stint as a stunt show performer and planned to major in business to start his dojo thereafter. Rocky shared a similar ambition, but one night eventually redirected his life down a path of dirty diapers and a desk job. Last, there was one Katherine Hillard. The hardly existent relationship was all Tommy had left before passing the torch. There was his car racing, but it was merely a part-time hobby after high school ended along with his after-school karate class at Ernie's.  
  
When Katherine announced to everyone she was returning home to Australia for a position at a dance academy, that was when Tommy threw himself into his racing. It was a temporary escape, but a good one. There was no more power, no more zord fights. The gang was gone and Tommy was left without a friend except for his uncle. Strange he thought how someone can raise you for all those years and not feel any sincere emotional attachment until the world comes crashing down. True serendipity.  
  
Now that man who raised him was gone; his life taken by the hands of those whom he believes is linked to one of the world's most powerful moguels; Henry Chin; C.E.O. of Shark Fuels. The object to which the slaining took place over remained just yards within the warehouse beside him; or he had hoped thanks to some "help."  
  
Eugene Skullovich, or simply Skull. The most unlikely of friends; the story usually brings a smile to Tommy's face. Neverminding it for the moment, he redirected his concentration to the task at hand. Listening caredully, he heard one man comment on the parked vehicle.  
  
"Whose is it?"  
  
"I don't know," the other replied. "We better radio it in. Could be a security threat."  
  
Tommy rose from his spot. "Gentlemen?"  
  
The duo spun around. Tommy stepped into closer proximity. "If you're looking for a threat -- you found one."  
  
"Just making sure," Michael said into his cell.  
  
"Mikey, you know me. We're always on time," Nick said from his end. "Terrance just phoned me with the passcode. Rest assure, we'll be under the first floor after I hang up. Erin's got the equipment and Christian has the rest. So relax, man!"  
  
"Don't tell me to relax! My father has his gala tonight and we need that computer program to activate those blasted things."  
  
"Wouldn't it be easier just to get it on a disk? Taking the whole freakin' system with us is going to be a bit intrusive," Erin hollered in the background.  
  
"Okay, we're outside the apartment building now. We'll call you right after," Nicholas said.  
  
"Get going, Butler! You're my head Shark."  
  
"I know this! Later," Nick said pressing end. "Ready, you guys? ... Christian?"  
  
Nick and Erin looked down the stairwell to see the door to the apartment's basement already open. Christian poked his head out and nodded.  
  
"Gotta keep up, guys. It's pay day."  
  
Nicholas exchanged a pleased expression with Erin before joining up. The trio paced down the corridor to where their map led them. Erin set the doffel bag onto the ground and unzipped it immediately as Christian produced a pair of black leather gloves and slipped them on. Nicholas kept a keen eye on the time.  
  
"Come on, guys. If that Malloy dude returns home, we're shark bait."  
  
"We're hurrying, Nicholas," Erin growled.  
  
The young brunette had completed assembly of the drilling tool that moments ago was in pieces in the yellow bag beside her. Christian grabbed the cord and jammed it into the nearest socket.  
  
"Let's do this."  
  
"Siekya!" Tommy grunted throwing his leg back into one of the men's stomach.  
  
His other leg simultaneously impacted the other man, striking both at the same time.  
  
"Ready for more?" Tommy asked.  
  
The cloaked men staggered to their feet looking to eachother for an answer as what to do. Without debate, they were outmatched and fled on the spot. Tommy adjusted his shirt as he watched the duo flee in a most cowardly manner. Tommy almost chuckled at the thought of how similar this was to a Putty fight. The quarrel would be fierce for all but a minute, wind down by the second, and be over before the third without breaking a sweat in most cases. Checking his watch, time suddenly became of the essence. He couldn't afford any other encounters such as these.  
  
"Open path. Take it now," Skull announced from Tommy's wrist device, his voice cautious of volume.  
  
"Right," Tommy acknowledged in kind.  
  
The former Power Ranger dashed to the warehouse delivery entrance and again made certain security was not afoot. An all-silver ten-digit keypad was mounted adjacent to the door.  
  
"Code?" Tommy inquired, his tone intolerant to Skull's lagtime in assistance. "Today."  
  
"Hold on," the former Angel Grove High alumni responded. "Any second. ... 6723."  
  
Tommy repeated the four-digit passcode to himself as entered it in to the keypad. A soft-click from the door implied the login attempt as successful. Without haste, Tommy reached for the knob, slowly turned and pulled back.  
  
Careful...  
  
Behind the door stood a long empty hallway. The floresant lights above were dim but enough to make out a clear route. Not a sound was heard from within, an indication no one close was around.  
  
Tommy swiftly stepped into the hall and shut the door quietly as possible so not to draw attention. He checked the red striped device on his wrist and lowered its speaker volume as a further precaution. Unintentionally, his eyes fell on and studied the stunning star-shaped jewel studded center of the device. The outside appeared to be a simple glass or plastic casing with a red tint. With nothing illuminating it, the jewel sat dim and lifeless. Tommy stood looking at the piece in reverant observation. The memory crept back slowly...  
  
"Uncle Rob?"  
  
"Yes, Tommy?"  
  
The man looked down to the hands of the eightteen year old. An object concealed in a red linen cloth was presented to him. Rising from his desk chair, Robert Resh looked to his nephew with bewilderment.  
  
"What is it?" Robert asked.  
  
"It's what I've been keeping from you. ... The reason I used to disappear countless amount of times," Tommy began to explain, his eyes containing a child-like sense of honesty.  
  
"Tommy, I -- you know you don't owe me any explanations, right? I mean all that's important is you've opened up. We're actually talking now."  
  
"I know, Uncle Rob. But I want to. I want to show you what I've been keeping from you and tell you why I've changed. ... God, I have so much to say. ... Take a look."  
  
Carefully, Tommy unwrapped the object from its covering, revealing a red sharde of crystal. A star piece was carved at its base and seemed to be drained off the life it once retained.  
  
"Tommy, I ... it's amazing," Uncle Rob said finally able to speak "What is it?"  
  
"Where do I start?..."  
  
Tommy proceded down the dank hallway, panstakingly mindful of his walk. The forty-foot distance from the ground to the roof of the warehouse could easily resonate the simplist of footstops to give way to his presence.  
  
"What do you mean? Impossible!" an angry voice cried.  
  
Startled, Tommy froze. His eyes searched for a place to quickly conceal himself.  
  
The voice continued. "When did you last see them?"  
  
"Sir--"  
  
"Who was on your shift when they disappeared?"  
  
"I don't know, but sir--"  
  
"Do you have any idea what this is going to cost my father? Do you?!"  
  
"Sir, Master Chin, all we know is the keys were guarded around the clock! It's impossible for any to be missing or--"  
  
The man was cut short. A pain-filled cry echoed throughout the warehouse. From the sound, Tommy assessed the superior had struck his associate with great force, perhaps a fist or knee to the stomach.  
  
"Maybe you took the keys!" Chin continued.  
  
"N-no! What would I have to gain?!"  
  
Another strike to the lower-ranked man was heard, this time his cry louder and longer. A small clicking noise followed.  
  
"No! Please. ... My family. ... Please don't. ... Michael, please!"  
  
A single shot rang out. Silence filled the warehouse for the following minute.  
  
"It'll cost him your life," Michael Chin finished.  
  
A shaken Tommy cowarded behind a wall of wooden crates. Footsteps paced about the open area where Michael stood over the dying Rider.  
  
"If you can still hear me, Smith," Chin said kneeling beside the man, "I just might have the courtesy to return your body in one piece to your family if you tell me where the missing keys went."  
  
A digusted, trembling Tommy bit his lip in an attempt to not stop what was happening. But it was too late to help.  
  
A muffled cry was heard. A second shot followed a second after.  
  
"Wrong answer, Smith."  
  
Michael concealed the pistol and unclipped his cell phone. "Smith needs a ride home. I'm heading to the manor with the remaining keys for safe keeping -- Yes the remaining keys. I'll explain when I get there! Should of never let my father hire ingrates for security detail."  
  
Tommy poked his head up to possibly catch a glimpse of the situation. All he could see was Michael's back as he approached a glass casing sitting atop a wooden crate.  
  
"Too bad you couldn't bare witness to the greatness, Smith. While America and the rest of the world pays billions for our turbo technology, Shark Fuels will have access to anything we desire. We'll be richer than kings!"  
  
Michael looked down at the small case in his hands. "Three out of five ain't bad -- but still -- Dad isn't going to like this."  
  
It was now or never Tommy decided.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
No!  
  
Tommy froze again.  
  
Michael answer his phone. "Butler! What's the word?"  
  
Butler?!  
  
"Success, brotha. Christian's lowering the computer to us now," Nicholas reported.  
  
"Way to go, Nicky boy. Bring it by the house. I'm heading over there now."  
  
"Roger that."  
  
"Bye."  
  
NICK?  
  
Michael pocketed his phone and headed out with the keys. Tommy remained hidden where he was, his ears stunned with disbelief. Momentarily, the keys or Smith didn't matter.  
  
"Come on, Christian!" Nick hollered.  
  
"Shh! Just give me a minute," the twenty-year old shot back. "If I drop it, we're all screwed."  
  
Erin giggled at the exchange as she peered up to the perfectly cut hole she drilled above.  
  
Her smile disolved. "Guys -- I think we already are."  
  
Confused, Nicholas followed Erin's eyes. "Oh sh-"  
  
"Oh shit is right," the man spoke, cutting Nick's obsenity short. "BUSTED."  
  
A gun was cocked and aimed down the hole.  
  
"How ya doing, Mack?" Christian asked casually.  
  
"I'm about to blow all your fuckin' heads off and you ask how I'm doin'?"  
  
"Yeah. It creates a diversion so Nick here can disarm you. Watch."  
  
Nicholas produced a small knife and flung it above his head. The blade pierced the man's shoulder precisely.  
  
"Son of a bitch!" Mack screamed.  
  
"See?" asked a grinning Christian.  
  
Nick, too, grinned. "Let's hit it!"  
  
Grabbing their belongings, the trio bolted down the corridor toward the basement exit. Christian bagged the PC and flug it over his shoulder and followed his friends outside.  
  
"Hey, Malloy!" he said looking back. "You just been shark attacked, baby!"  
  
"This isn't over!" Mack shouted.  
  
Together, Nick, Erin, and Christian made their way outside the apartment complex and found their bikes waiting where they left them. The rush enthralled Erin to a great high. She lost count how many times they've pulled jobs like these without a hitch. The pay off was great. Even better (almost) was making love with Nick afterwards. Having the money on the bed to roll around in started off as a joke, but quickly turned into an interesting fetish. She could hardly wait to get back to his apartment. It'd have to wait however.  
  
"Oh no," Erin choked, stopping abruptly.  
  
Coming full speed in their direction was a blue bogger truck. Its twin cannons spun around in their direction.  
  
"Sons of bitches!!!" Mack yelled from his window, an RC device clutched firmly in his hands.  
  
"Roll clear!" ordered Nicholas.  
  
Christian, with the computer bag, tossed himself into the shrubs behind him. The red sack slipped from his hands but luckily had landed atop the bushes as well.  
  
"Fire!" Mack commanded.  
  
The truck spun around and locked back to its closest targets; Nick and Erin.  
  
"Oh my God," Erin muttered, her face buried in Nick's shoulder.  
  
"I'll protect you!" Nicholas said putting himself in front.  
  
Twin lasers charged, releasing a blast of blue energy. Nick closed his eyes, ready to meet his end. Instead, the two were perpelled into the sky as a group of black-shaded lasers diverted the truck's attack, creating a force able to throw both thieves onto the street.  
  
"No!" cried Christian.  
  
Nicholas and Erin stirred, but were unable to mobilize themselves. A trio of Shark Riders pulled up on matching jet black Suzukis, each one with a shark face molded at the nose on every bike. Identical helmets sat on each Rider's head; trenchcoats, pants, and boots to complete the emsemble.  
  
"You didn't think we'd forget about you guys, did you?"  
  
"The thought crossed my mind!" Christian said running to his comrades. "Here's the computer. Let's get them up and ride out."  
  
"Whoa. No time. We need to jet now."  
  
"But Nick and Erin--"  
  
"No time! Come now or let that thing blow your ass off, too!"  
  
The bogger truck reconnected its RC connection finally and reversed itself back onto the street.  
  
"Ride or die, Christian! You choose!"  
  
Christian looked to his injuried friends. They stirred helplessly unable to move.  
  
"Pay day, Mosley! What are you waiting for?"  
  
It hurt all over; bad. How could he? The sting in Christian's eyes was great as he mounted on the back of the Rider's bike and took off. From the street, Nick titled his head off to see Christian leaving. Though semi-concious and his vision blurred, he understood what had transpired. They were left behind.  
  
"Sucks to be you," said Mack.  
  
His hand motioned the controller, guiding the truck's cannons back to the abandoned Riders.  
  
"You've had it, Doltron!"  
  
The Sword of Isis ripped through the towering dragon's belly, exposing and loosening the bloody guts within. Inevitibly, the monster exploded into the desert's night sky, each shred of its flesh consumed in wavering flames. Thunder and lightning roared behind the armor-clad J-Kid, protector of the land.  
  
"J-Kid scores again!" A.J. declared, his fists raised high above his head. His smile vanished. "God I'm bored."  
  
Playing Desert Thunder 2 for the past three hours had gotten old, especially after beating the game four times in a row. Tommy hadn't returned and the rain's been beating down hard for the past hour or so. Business being dead now, most of the mechanics called it a day already and left.  
  
"Yo, kid," said a man standing in the office doorway.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I locked up the joint and everything's caught up, so let your uncle know."  
  
"I haven't heard from him and he isn't answering his phone, either."  
  
"Oh for real? Do you want a lift home?"  
  
"I don't take rides from strangers."  
  
"Whatever, kid. 'Night."  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
As much as A.J. wanted to leave, home was the only place to go and there wasn't much to do there either. He hated to think about it, but having no real friends got to him sometimes. There's been a few guys at school he'd roll with and inevitibly get in trouble with, but no real friendships were made. Now with a looming explusion, a new school may or may not be in order.  
  
I'm starving...  
  
A.J. craned his neck about the office looking for something, perhaps an opened bag of chips or a candy bar; anything to hold him over for an hour.  
  
The snack machine...  
  
A.J. sprung up from the squeaky swivel chair to go find some substanance. His eyes scanned the selection and fell upon a bag of bite size Amos chocolate chip cookies. His hand dug into a pocket but produced nothing. A.J. then checked the other million pockets on his cargo shorts, coming up empty-handed again. A mischevious smile crept onto his face.  
  
"Let's see what a little rocking will do!"  
  
A.J. placed both hands atop the machine and began to shift it back and forth. The candy inside didn't budge.  
  
"Damn this is heavy," A.J. said, his arms finally giving up.  
  
Catching his breath, the teen heard a faint noise. A.J.'s senses shot up. His eyes scanned his surroundings carefully. How scary everything seemed to be when alone in the dark with rain and wind howling outside.  
  
"Hello?" A.J. called.  
  
No reply. A shuffling noise came next from around the corner, something like a crumpling bag or a similar noise.  
  
"Nick? Christian? ... Uncle Tom?"  
  
A broom!  
  
A.J. took the sweeper from its crebis between the wall and the snack machine and gripped it tightly. He took short steps closer to where the sounds were coming from. The shuffling progressed as A.J. came closer to the bend of the wall.  
  
Time to introduce this broom stick to someone's ass...  
  
Jumping out from the corner, A.J. let out a vicious cry of war, swinging the broom in a spinning motion he's seen countless of times in his uncle's martial arts videos. The figure concealed in the shadow cried out in a similar response, sending an accurate side kick to A.J.'s broom. The stick flew away from the boy's hands and rolled underneath a nearby workbench. Astonished and without a chance to react, A.J. found himself with a hand to his neck; a soft hand.  
  
"What - the - hell?" A.J. said, all previous emotion draining from his face.  
  
"Oh my GOD! You idiot!" the voice shot back.  
  
"You're the idiot! You didn't answer me when I said hello!"  
  
"Whatever, A.J.. I'm wet and grumpy. So, please..."  
  
Jaime Butler unsnapped the last of the six buttons from the pink rain coat covering her body and kicked it off to the side. The pink baseball cap atop her head, too, as soaked and was thrown alongside the crumpled tarp. Bright blonde hair freed itself from its imprisonment and draped over and behind the sixteen year old's shoulders.  
  
"What are you doing here?" asked. A.J.  
  
"I might ask you the same thing."  
  
"Better yet, how'd you get in here?"  
  
"For your information, Nick made me a key and yes your uncle is okay with it," Jaime answered sharply. "Is he here?"  
  
"Obviously not. I'm here alone."  
  
"Wonderful. His phone is off and I need him to get back home."  
  
"And where's home?" asked. A.J.  
  
"Not anywhere close to here. I didn't have money for bus fare and my quick pass is out of funds."  
  
"So I guess you have no spare change for the snack machine then?"  
  
"No I don't have spare change for the snack machine then," Jaime mocked.  
  
Lightning interrupted the exchange, cackling very closeby. Jaime jumped.  
  
"It's just lightning," A.J. said.  
  
"Is your uncle's computer running?  
  
"Yeah. Better go catch it."  
  
"So not funny," Jaime said leaving the boy. "I'll be online getting some homework done."  
  
"Homework?"  
  
A.J. followed the blonde into Tommy's office. "But it's summer."  
  
"It's called a summer reading list. You know -- BOOKS?" Jaime asked.  
  
"Whatever. Why the hell are you reading them? No one does."  
  
"Holy Mary Catholic High students do. They make us."  
  
"Is that where you go?" A.J. asked lamely.  
  
"Catholic schoolling since kindergarden," Jaime said, her voice suddenly meek.  
  
"Oh. ... So you wear those little plad skirts and those tiny white dress shirts tied above the stomach?"  
  
"Ugh. If you're thinking Britney Spears, get real."  
  
Jaime sat down at the desk and logged on to the computer. A.J. remained standing, his mind bathing in the idea of a school full of skirt-clad Britney Spearses.  
  
Nice...  
  
"I still say it's risky. Bulk used to make me do some crazy things, but nothing like this."  
  
"Eugene, wearing a tux is hardly daring. Keep still," Tommy said holding the man's bowtie.  
  
The former Green Ranger placed a small disc behind the black article and secured it properly.  
  
"You're all set, man."  
  
Eugene Skullivich turned to face his bathroom's vanity. How ridiculous he felt -- yet it worked.  
  
"A tux. I'm wearing a tux," he said.  
  
"Nothing gets by you," Tommy said. "And that's a damn good tux I might add. It used to be mine."  
  
"Yes yes. The faux turbo keys; they're on the counter."  
  
"You got them that quickly?" Tommy asked astonished.  
  
"Tom, please! You're talking to the jack of all trades here," Skull boasted.  
  
"Just as long as they look like the real thing. I can't let Chin notice the difference when I retrieve the real ones."  
  
"Don't worry your spiky little head. They're fine. ... I gotta tell you. I still don't like what you're doing. You must have a death wish."  
  
"I've had one since 'breaking the spell'."  
  
Skull sobered at the discreet reference to Tommy's past. The day Jason destroyed the Sword of Darkness and freed Tommy from Rita's evil spell was the day he pledged to protect the world from the space witch's 'menancing monsters'. The job never ended.  
  
Tommy left the bathroom and returned promptly with the box Skull spoke of. "I snuck a peek. They're perfect."  
  
"Told you. ... So I guess you're ready."  
  
"Almost. I got the blood out from the trenchcoat and it's almost done drying. I'm positive it'll need ironing."  
  
Tommy was dressed head to toe in black; a black shirt, black jeans, and black boots -- the same exact boots Smith wore.  
  
"Don't you feel a little weird about wearing those?" asked Skull. "The man just died this afternoon."  
  
"How do you think I feel? I heard him die," Tommy grimmaced, his eyes falling away from Eugene's. "I have no choice. I have to get in and out of there unseen."  
  
"The helmet?"  
  
"In my car."  
  
"Alright, Tom. Looks like you're set. ... Good luck to you and God speed."  
  
"Thanks -- oh son of a..."  
  
"What? What is it?" Skull asked.  
  
"A.J. I never checked in with him. What if he's stil at the garage?" asked Tommy, his voice similar to that of a worried parent.  
  
"Ha. That kid is long gone by now. Probably at home," Eugene said trying reassure his friend. "No time to worry. You've got a schedule to keep. It's almost seven."  
  
"Damn, you're right. Okay, I'm out. See you there if I can. Remember, keep in contact," Tommy said pointing to Skull's bowtie.  
  
"You got it."  
  
"Alright then. ... Let's go get some keys."  
  
The rain's shadow-like glow spilled across the hardwood apartment floor. The place was dark in most areas with the exception of a desk lamp lighting one corner of the studio apartment. A large blanket was laid out covering a portion of the floor. Underneath, the faint sound of dripping water from the pipes below echoed from the flawlessly-cut hole. Just feet from the incison laid two still bodies; one male, one female. The sound of footsteps broke the room's deafening silence.  
  
Mack Malloy came and stood above the motionless lifeforms. The aged-man appeared grieved and exhausted from the day's events. His eyes were bloodshot; his silver hair a mess. It's already been twenty-four hours of no sleep for Mack before today's incident, but thanks to Nicholas and Erin, sleep would have to be delayed once again. How sweet it would be to just hack the sons of bitches to pieces he thought. It was just that -- a thought.  
  
I would never... Came close though eariler...  
  
"Be grateful I recongized you, kid," Mack said kneeling beside Nicholas. "If I hadn't known you were Tommy's, well ... who knows?"  
  
Nick's head began to make a suttle movement. He was coming to. Slowly, his eyes slid open and adjusted to his unlit surroundings.  
  
"So you've awaken finally," Mack spoke.  
  
"Where...," Nick managed to mumble.  
  
"I assume you're asking about your whereabouts. ... You're a prisoner of war."  
  
"...Jesus..."  
  
"Not quite. I was joking about the prisoner of war jibe. Come on, kid. I'll help you up."  
  
Mack took Nick's arm and helped him rise to his feet. The teen noticed his arms were bare, meaning his bike jacket was missing. The black sleeveless tee he bore clinged to his body with cold sweat. His eyes then fell on Erin.  
  
"Oh fuck. ... I'm so sorry, Erin," Nicholas said attempting to kneel down beside his girlfriend.  
  
Mack stepped between. "She'll be fine," he said. "You and I need to talk."  
  
"About?"  
  
Mack pointed to the tattoo on Nick's left bicep. The black, navy, and sky-blue colored shark head covered the majority of the large defined muscle; its teeth dripping with specs of red no doubt resembling blood of its victim.  
  
"I need to help her," Nick protested. "Please..."  
  
"Okay. But I could always go to Tommy if you wish. Maybe he could provide some insight for me."  
  
"You wouldn't."  
  
"Would I?" Mack retorted, his eyebrow cocked.  
  
Nick stood emotionless, aches of exhaustion and soreness growing with each passing minute it seemed. And what a headache.  
  
Mack nodded. "Let's begin..."  
  
A three story seven million dollar manor; Stone Canyon's grandest estate. The house overlooks Canyon Bay, the body of water seperating the city's elite from the city's average and poor. A black stretch limo pulled up to the front of the mansion as rain continued to pour in. A pacing shadow could be seen coming from the center third story window.  
  
"Are you certain?" Henry Chin asked again for the second time.  
  
"Yes, sir," the man replied. "I must end this call, Mr. Chin. The press is arriving and I highly advise you will too, soon."  
  
"Of cource, Danny. Thank you."  
  
"Very good, sir. Goodbye."  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
Henry flipped his phone shut and pocketed it back into his tux coat.  
  
Through these months of careful planning, two keys go missing. For crying out loud...  
  
"At least I can still present three of them," Henry said aloud.  
  
The middle-aged Korean stood before his six-foot vanity to prod over his appearance one last time before departing.  
  
With my excessive worrying, I'm suprised ALL my hair isn't gray.  
  
"Dad?"  
  
The door to the office gently opened. There stood Michael Chin.  
  
"Looking sharp, son. Come in."  
  
"Thanks," Michael said. "Mom picked it out. ... Oh, she says the limo's here, too."  
  
"Good. Shut the door, son. I want to talk to you."  
  
"Sure, dad. What's up?"  
  
Henry Chin adjusted the cufflinks on his sleeves as he turned to face his one and only son. His face grew stern.  
  
"I want you to listen to me, Michael. And I mean this," Henry said.  
  
"Is everything alright, dad?"  
  
"Yes. Everything's fine. I want you to know -- I'm very proud of you."  
  
Michael formed a humble smile. "Thanks, dad. ... Um, where is this coming from?"  
  
"Do I need a reason to compliment my son?"  
  
"I guess not?" Michael answered. "You usually don't just say things like that."  
  
"I know, and I'm sorry. You've done quite well. I've seen your hard work lately, keeping up with the dockets, coordinating the jobs and hits. ... You're a responsible young man, Mikey."  
  
"Heh. Mikey. ... God it's been forever."  
  
"My only regret is I've raised you for twenty-one years and I never gave you the childhood you deserved."  
  
"Dad, no--"  
  
"No, please. Let me finish. I wish I could be more of a friend to you sometimes."  
  
"Dad, you are my friend and I love doing what I do. I have everything I could ever imagine. By next year, who knows? Shark Fuels will be an unstoppable juggernaut."  
  
"Nevermind that. We work from sun up to sun down. It's all business all day. ... I made a decision, Michael. Starting next week, I'm taking a month off and I want you to join me."  
  
"What? Why? There's so much to get done, dad," Michael protested.  
  
"The company's in good hands. I trust our board. I've been thinking about it for a long time. I want you, me, and your mother to take off for a month. You know; a vacation."  
  
"A family vacation?" Michael said in disbelief.  
  
"Sure! Why not?" Henry asked. "I think it'd be nice."  
  
"I suppose that'd be okay -- I suppose."  
  
"Son, I just don't want the rest of my life to be ordered by this damn Palm Pilot or my cell phone. I need -- I need a vacation! And so do you! You with me on this?"  
  
Michael laughed. "Yeah, dad. I am."  
  
Henry gave a light squeeze to his son's shoulder. "Good. ... I know one day when I'm gone, the company will be in good hands."  
  
"You talk as if that's going to be soon."  
  
"Nah. That's not it, but this is a risky and dangerous business, Michael. A merger of our three leading competitors, plus our other, um, 'projects', is bound to make some crazy things happen. Don't be surprised."  
  
"Don't give me any ideas. Tonight is stressful enough," Michael said.  
  
"I'm sorry, son. Enough about that for now. Let's go. The limo is waiting."  
  
With three umbrellas handy, the limo driver outside waited patiently for the Chins, as did another man unseen by all. Outside the estate, a parked black Suzuki sat with a cloaked figure next to.  
  
Binoculars were raised to his eyeplate as he watched Henry, Sandra, and Michael Chin walk outside to their waiting limosuine.  
  
Behind the shark-shaped helmet, Tommy Oliver nodded confidently. "And it all comes tumbling down ... starting tonight." 


End file.
